Lady Gallant (14 page)

"Stay you, lady. I'm not weary of the sight of you yet."

The highwayman turned back to his audience. Each of his men had captured a lady and were fighting off rescuers while they backed toward their leader. As they drew nearer, Nora caught sight of Roger Mortimer charging a brigand, whooping and grinning all the while.

"Christian, you foul bawd," Roger called out, "release the ladies!" He slipped around his opponent and jumped on top of the railing that protected the first tier of seats.

In a single motion Christian swept Nora up in one arm and whirled to face Roger. "I told you I could steal them." Christian waved the tip of his sword at Roger's nose. "I have six ladies, and you lose the wager."

Nora squirmed in Christian's grip. Everyone knew it was he and his knavish friends. The wretch hadn't bothered to disguise his acrobat's body, and she would know that taunting, love-spell voice anywhere. The Duchess of Suffolk was laughing as Nora and the other women kicked and struggled to get free.

Roger groaned. "Nora Becket, you've cost me my new Barbary stallion."

"Release me," Nora said as she tried to pry herself from Christian's embrace.

He chuckled and whispered to her, "Not yet, sweeting. It's all part of the masque, you know. You must play your part. Do shriek and struggle all you want. Call out to your laughing weasel of a betrothed and beg him to rescue you from me."

She clamped her mouth shut. Christian looked down at her, grinning nastily.

"No wails and cries? Ah, well, I'll have to carry on without your help then."

Shifting his grip, he sheathed his sword and grasped the rope he'd used to leap upon the seats. Nora caught her breath and squeezed her eyes shut as he swung them out, past Roger and over the floor below. As they swung, Christian released the rope and they dropped. His feet hit the floor before her, and he caught her as she followed him down. His men followed with their captives.

As soon as she landed, Nora tried to run, but Christian grabbed her wrist and pulled her after him. He raced across the floor with his characteristic gazelle's run, heading fora giant gilt mountain that had been constructed at one end of the disguising house. She had to lift her skirts and use his momentum to keep up.

Stopping at the foot of the mountain, Christian gathered his men around him. He kept Nora beside him as he stepped forth to address the crowd of noblemen shouting amiable insults at his band of knaves.

"Good gentles," he called, "mark you that I, Kit the highwayman, and my men have invaded your domain and captured the fairest maidens we could find. We now challenge you to contest with sword and dagger our possession of the maids. The winner shall keep the company of his maid for the rest of the masque. My good fellow, Robin Cutpurse, will take any challenger for his maid first."

Nora twisted her wrist in an effort to break free from Christian, but he held on and guided her to the rear of his band of highwaymen.

"Let go, my lord." She tried to pry his fingers loose, but to no avail.

Christian ignored her, sidling closer to the base of the gilt mountain, then slipping inside it through a leather cover painted to look like the rest of the mountain. He hauled her after him into a dark cavern.

"Papier-mache and wood framework," he said near her ear. "All to conceal my pleasure."

In the darkness she felt his lips brush across her cheek. She gasped and turned toward him, making it easier for his mouth to search out hers. In a moment his lips teased hers and parted them. As his tongue slipped inside her mouth, she tried to grab a handful of his hair to pull him back, but her fingers found his scarf instead.

The scarf came free, and her fingers laced through soft curls. She tried to speak, but his mouth prevented it, so all that came out was a groan.

"That's it, sweeting, moan for me."

"I'm not moaning, and you must stop."

"No."

She saw the black shadow of his head duck toward her, and she turned her face so his lips grazed her cheek.

"God's teeth," he muttered.

Her feet slipped out from under her as he picked her up again. She was whirled around and then found herself on the floor before she understood what was happening. As she gathered breath for a scream, his body came down on hers.

"I'm tired of the mouse," he said against her lips. "Show me the little dragon that near devoured my mouth in the Queen's garden."

He kissed her again, and she felt him sucking at her tongue, rhythmically, in time with the slow flexing of his hips. At first she was startled by his weight and the invasion of her person, but as he continued to move with that strange, enticing cadence, her blood heated and her fears vanished. It seemed natural to kiss him back, to allow him to slip one leg, and then the other, between hers. All the while his hips thrust against her, pressing hard, raising, pressing hard again, and his tongue did the same in her mouth.

Tingling heat built in her veins, searing her breasts and invading her loins. As sensation after sensation rushed upon her, Nora breathed a sigh. She had been fighting the urge to explore Christian's body, but the tingling in her breasts and loins overpowered her shyness, and she groped for his hips. She allowed her hands to ride those pumping muscles before she lost all control and grasped his firm buttocks. As her fingers dug into his flesh through his hose, he muttered encouragement.

"Yes, feel me, touch me, sweeting. All of me." He ran his tongue down her neck to her breasts and nipped at her bare flesh. "Say you'll come to my bed, sweeting. I can't take you here."

Her eyes popped open. "Oh, dear."

"I want you."

"Oh." Nora's desire vanished. "Oh. No."

"Yes." He slipped his fingers beneath the neck of her gown and down the cleft between her breasts. "Give me your promise."

"You don't like me," she said. She wriggled and shoved at his chest. "Lord Montfort, you don't like me. Please don't do this."

He lifted his head. "Who told you I dislike you?"

"No one. You're cruel to mock me, saying I'm a pretty maid when I'm so plain, and making a spectacle of me in front of everyone."

"S'blood! Why do you think you're plain?"

"Father says—"

"Falseness. Do you think I devote myself to seducing ugly women?"

"But—"

"Come to my bed and I'll show you how beautiful you are. Come." He thrust his hips against hers again as he spoke. "Come, come, come to me."

"Don't." The word was a drawn-out wail. "You're unfair, my lord, to tease me so when I must betroth myself."

"Flegge is worms' meat on legs. Cast him aside, for I'll couple with you if I have to kill him to do it."

Startled, Nora began to struggle again. "No, sweeting," Christian whispered. "I'm sorry I frightened you, but you're driving me to madness, and we don't have much time. And by the by, I don't couple with anyone I don't like."

"But you're cruel," she repeated.

"I'm not cruel in bed."

She groaned and pounded a fist against his chest. "Don't you listen? Percivale Flegge."

"Cast him aside."

"I can't. Father has chosen him for me. And it's terrible, because I hate his—"

"Laugh. The fool laughs like a demented peacock. And his soul is three parts cesspool and one part jade. Deny him."

"I can't." She swallowed a sob. To be aroused by a man who seemed to want to spend the whole evening resting atop her body while half the court jeered and whooped a few yards away was agony.

"You can," Christian said. "I've seen you deny a ruffian for less reason. Look you, I'll arrange for you to meet both your father and Flegge during the dancing. I'll conceal myself nearby and lend aid. You can do this, sweeting. You must learn to defend yourself."

"But Father—"

"He will admire your hearty stomach."

She shook her head. "I don't think so."

"He will. You'll see, and you can thank me later tonight."

"Oh, no."

"Come," he said, lifting his body off hers. "We must leave our cavern or we'll be missed. It's almost time for me to fight to possess you, and I need something to take my thoughts from the ache beneath my codpiece."

He gently pushed her out of the mountain. She stumbled forth, blinking in the light of dozens of torches. John St. Vincent was hacking away at Robin Cutpurse for the hand of his betrothed. No one noticed her as she crept forward, followed by Christian. He took her hand and escorted her to the front of the crowd that surrounded the pair of fencers. As the match ended, Nora pressed her hands to her burning cheeks in an attempt to cool them. So flustered was she, she missed Christian's challenge until she heard her name on his lips. He had challenged Percivale Flegge, since Flegge had shown no desire to challenge him.

Nora watched Flegge step from the crowd to face Christian. Catcalls and taunts rained down upon the two men, but Flegge smiled and raised his voice.

"Alas, good gentles, I must decline, for I am recovering from a terrible ague that has kept me from court these long months and have yet to regain my strength."

A host's smile upon his lips, Christian bowed to Flegge, but Nora heard the words Christian spoke low enough for only the three of them to hear.

"Dear Flegge, God grant you succor in your weakness. I am befuddled, though. How is it that you can marry and yield your fleshly sword but can't ply the one in your scabbard?"

Flegge's complexion turned to blotches of red and white, and his hand moved in the direction of his sword. Christian remained still, appearing unconcerned at the threat. His catlike gaze caressed Flegge's mottled features, and he smiled a smile of open good humor. Christian's composure was nearly Flegge's undoing. He touched the hilt of his sword. Christian began to shove Nora away from him when Roger jumped between the two men with a challenge of his own. They were quickly surrounded by Christian's knaves and herded to opposite ends of the circle formed by the guests. Percivale Flegge disappeared.

The duel was swift and difficult to follow, for the two moved with the quickness of adders. It seemed to Nora that she glanced away for only a second, and when she looked back, Christian was standing over Roger, his swordtip pressing into the velvet of his friend's doublet. Roger moaned and bewailed the loss of a pretty maid on top of his best stallion, and loudly cried out for some kind lady to comfort him. Plump Mistress Mary Wentworth scurried to his side and crushed him to her breast, to the enthusiastic cheers of highwaymen and nobles alike.

Christian put up his sword and took possession of Nora's hand again. He addressed the guests. "Good gentles, now that our quarrel is settled, it is time to seek refreshment and dance."

Nora looked about. She saw her father standing at the edge of the crowd, scowling at her. Flegge lurked at his side, evidently considering himself safe in her father's company. Guilt crept over Nora, but the warmth of Christian's hand surrounding hers lent her courage. God wouldn't want her to marry a fool and a coward. Perhaps He had sent Lord Montfort to teach her the virtue of courage. She would be brave and refuse Percivale Flegge. With Christian there to guide her, she could convince her father that marriage with Flegge was wrong. However, Christian was mistaken if he thought she was fool enough to believe his aid worth her virginity.

Nora smiled to herself. She might be a mouse, but she was by no means a stupid mouse. It was time Christian de Rivers learned that lesson.